So much serendipity, it can’t be luck

Serendipity has a funny way of circumventing my world, as long as I put myself in the right places and embrace letting it in.

    So, I am at Guatemala airport and trying to make the journey to Pisa, via Madrid, to get to Jack & Brooke’s wedding, where I am best man.

I’m on a standby ticket - I don’t manage to get on that flight. Nor the next one. So I end up in a hotel close to the airport.

Irony or serendipity moment number one…

I get to the hotel tired and slightly frustrated and head to the gym, which has a sweeping view of Guatemala (serendipity), but mainly of the runway (irony).

I watch plane after plane lift into the sky while sweat runs down my forehead and strikes of lightning pierce the distance behind the city.

Greg — essentially my UK-based logistician and best amigo and I come up with a plan.

Flights out of Guatemala are crazy full. So aim is get to Miami. It’s a big hub.

I get to the US relatively painlessly. Albeit on a 3am wake-up and about 25 hours after I stepped out the door and onto a boat on Lake Atitlán, Guatemala.

Even from Miami, though, the direct flights to Italy and Madrid aren’t looking good.

Heathrow is the next big terminal of choice.

Serendipity moment number two…

I get to Heathrow and message my pal Whitey. He and Kerry can put me up for the night. They always come through.

Meaning we also get a long-overdue pint of Guinness and a catch-up together.

Serendipity moment number three…

I message Kat — the great neighbour I’ve mentioned before to see if she’s home in Battersea.

She’s not, but she drives back early from Dorset. We run, eat curry and play Monopoly Deal. A staple tradition of ours.

My London stint not only bridges the gap between Latin America and the wedding, it gives me a surprise, unplanned and wonderful stop to see pals.

Serendipity number four…

I finally get on the plane from Heathrow to Pisa.

I am going to make the wedding.

Also on the same flight: the bride and groom.The wedding celebrations can begin.

Due to the late booking, I also get the chance to stay in a nunnery in the heart of Pisa. Now, if that’s not immersing yourself in authentic culture, I’m not sure what is.

The wedding is incredible.

We play tennis the morning of, which, given the amount of time Jack and I have spent together on a court over the years, feels fitting.

The nerves are calm. It’s a nice moment to share the court with Jack and his pals.

Watching Brooke and Jack say their vows in the sweltering heat of a Tuscan villa is a beautiful sight AND an emotional one.

Then I stand up to give my speech. My nerves are racing at this point. Calm tennis long forgotten.

Serendipity number five…

I’m at this wedding because my ex was good mates with Brooke.

That’s how Jack and I ended up striking up a great friendship, which, years later, somehow leads to me standing in Tuscany as his best man.

Funny how life pans out.

SO, made it to the wedding. Got to see two wonderful people get married. Did my duties as best man.

Afterwards, I have a little time to run some mountains in Lucca, get to Florence, catch up with Sam — one of the chicos crew from Huayhuash in Peru, then welcome Mum and Dad to Italy.

Serendipity number six…

Having a pitstop in Europe means that after seven and a bit months of not seeing my parents, we get to have a holiday together in Florence.

Eat good food. Tell crappy jokes. Potter around the city. Catch up.

Nothing groundbreaking. Just that really nice cosy feeling.

Then it’s time to make my way over to LA.

Serendipity number seven.

My logistician Greg comes up trumps again and although I’m on standby, I manage to get two pretty comfy business-class flights all the way to LA.

 Then I message Stevie.

She has been colluding for a while to surprise Rich for his birthday.

I land at LAX and a very heavily pregnant Stevie picks me up — what a saint.

I get to the house and cover the peephole.

Rich tentatively opens the door because he thinks he might be getting burgled.

I get it. We are in LA. I am covering the peephole.

But instead of dropping me with a right hook, we embrace with a right big hug.

One by one, Joe and Greg turn up too.

Serendipity number eight…

We’ve now known each other for at minimum 19 years.

We’ve seen almost every version of life together. It feels good to get back around a table, take the piss out of each other and celebrate the first of us turning 40.

And I think here lies a small microcosm of serendipity.

Long-standing friendships.

New friendships from travel.

Deep friendships born out of old relationships.

Connecting with family.

Taking opportunities that appear.

Maybe even the missed flights and plans that go completely to shit.

I don’t think there’s a big story in this one. No grand lesson from the road.

Just a reminder that the art of connection is alive and well.

And that perhaps serendipity isn’t entirely Luck ( partly why it’s my least favourite word in the dictionary).

Put yourself in places. Say yes. Message the mate. Take the detour. Get on the standby flight.

Sometimes you’ll end up stuck in an airport hotel watching the planes you didn’t get on take off.

But sometimes you’ll end up around a table with people you love, wondering how it all managed to work out.